these feelings are definitely not coming from my brain

anonymous asked:

Drunk raven expressing her feeling to bb, the really deep ones and the more cute ones too :))

Sensitive ears were great and all, unless the music was cranked up to a hundred hertz. Then, the only thing that could be heard was a constant thump and nothing else. 

That, and he always got a gnarly headache that battered at his temples for the remainder of the night. 

Beast Boy scowled and glared at his drink, wishing he could be far away from here

Today hadn’t been a good day. They’d nearly lost a bus full of kids to some idiot who thought blowing up bridges would be a fun pastime, and all Beast Boy wanted to do was lounge on the sofa, eat some pizza, and call it a night. He was sore, tired, and the horrors of narrowly missing getting burned to a crisp were still far too fresh on his mind. 

So yeah, a club really wasn’t where he wanted to be. 

But Robin had been determined to celebrate their success, probably to help lift the team’s spirits, or whatever. He took another swig of the brandy, wincing at the burn of the liquor in his throat. Beast Boy appreciated the gesture, he really did, but he just wasn’t feeling this tonight. 

A hint of lilacs tickled his nose, and Beast Boy turned to see Raven leaning over his shoulder. “Hey,” she shouted, her voice barely carrying over the booming music. “Dance with me.” 

He blinked. “What?” 

There was a laugh. “Come on!” She snagged his wrist, tugging him to his feet, and stumbling as she led him to the surging bodies on the dance floor. Strobe lights dazzled in his eyes, but Beast Boy could still see the way Raven fumbled on her feet. 

Was Raven…drunk? 

She jerked him close, attempting to sway to the beat. Her motions were jerky and unbalanced, and Beast Boy caught a strong whiff of liquor mingling with her natural scent. 

Well, she’d at least been drinking. She had to be, asking him to dance and all. 

The empath in question twirled a bit too hard and managed to throw herself off kilter. Beast Boy lurched forward and snagged her by the shoulders just before she could come crashing down onto the floor. “Uh, Rae?” he shouted. “How much have you drank tonight?” 

Raven blinked, her gaze out of focus. She giggled, letting herself lean into his touch. “I dunno,” she slurred, “my brain feels funny.” Her face screwed up as she paused to think, creating the most single-handedly adorable expression Beast Boy had ever seen grace her features. He bit back a snort. 

Oh yeah. Raven was definitely smashed. 

“Come on, let’s get you off the dance floor.” 

He led her away from the strobe lights and disco balls and towards a balcony just across from the bar. Cool air tickled his skin, and he instinctively threw an arm across Raven’s shoulders. Wouldn’t want her catching a cold, right? 

She didn’t seem fazed by the motion, instead wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning into him. “Mmmh,” she hummed, “you’re warm.” 

Beast Boy gulped, feeling his face grow hot. He could really smell the alcohol on her now that they were out in the crisp night air. Damn. She really must have been going at those shots. 

A little table caught Beast Boy’s attention, and he guided the inebriated empath over one of its chairs. “Here, why don’t we sit for a bit?” 

Raven laughed. “You’re such a cutie, Beastie. W-why’re you so cute?” She jabbed him with a finger as she spoke, her expression accusing. Beast Boy blinked. 

“I-I dunno. You think I’m cute?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious, B?” Raven lazily twirled a finger in her haphazard hair, waggling her eyebrows at him. “You are very, very cute.” 

Beast Boy blanched. This…this was bizarre. Raven exuded a forwardness he was completely unfamiliar with, fueled by her concoction of liquid courage, and it was starting to scare him. Did she…like him? That was impossible! 

Right?

Raven slumped into the chair, her glassy eyes flashing. “If I didn’t feel so…woozy… I’d kiss you right now.” Her expression quickly morphed from enticing to pained, and she dropped her head in her hands. “Ugh, I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

Beast Boy let out an awkward laugh, reaching out to rub her back. “Yeah, that tends to happen when you drink to much…” He whipped out his communicator and dialed for Cyborg. “I think it’s time for you to go home.” 

Raven’s hand curled around his wrist, prompting him to look up and meet her gaze. He blinked, his breath catching at the intensity swirling within her violet irises. “Take me out. Tomorrow. For lunch.”

Beast Boy balked. “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

“O-okay,” he stammered, “I will.” 

Raven smiled. “Good. Now excuse me while I go throw up.” She hauled herself to her feet and staggered off, leaving behind a very, very confused Beast Boy. 

Well, he supposed today hadn’t been a total disaster… 


Here you go, anon! One silly tale of a drunk Raven mustering the courage to hit on BB! xD Enjoy! 

-mod vixensheart

Connection Chap Two

Originally posted by cucumberbatch-of-cookies

Originally posted by bbcsherlockimagines

Connection.  Read Chap One here.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 4084

Your name: submit What is this?

Your office never seemed quite so quiet when you were at your desk alone, but seated in the chair across from a silent Sherlock was therapeutic in and of itself. The clock was running and his hour winding down, he sat with his fingers steepled and the tips resting against his chin with his eyes focusing on something in a distance you couldn’t see.

You had grown used to his trips into his mind over the last couple of months and knew when talking was pointless as he sorted things out. At first, you weren’t sure what to do as every sound in the surrounding area boomed and echoed around the room and yet, Sherlock remained undisturbed. You slowly came to enjoy it, the quiet time with him around was nice. The office noises on the floor fell away and you got a chance to clear your mind and just breathe. Sometimes you watched him, his face relaxed with a twitch in his cheek or brow every now and then. It had a soothing feel like watching water cascading down a fall or those little rock water features.

“He risked his life for me. I mean it wouldn’t have worked but he thought it would.”

You tilted your head wondering if he was actually talking to you or merely murmuring. His gaze was still far off. “He likes you. You have a friend, Sherlock. I’d say that’s pretty interesting. He’s a really good writer too.”

He frowned then his gaze sought yours. “No.” He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, “no, no, no.”

“What?”

“You’re one of them.”

“You’ll have to give me more to go on.”

Keep reading

Get It Right (11/?)

Sebastian Stan/Reader

Disclaimer: um mentions on smut(?), probably swearing but idk, a smol amount of fluff. This one is a bit different and random and weird and I’m afraid this series is going downhill but idk how to fix it and I’m rambling, sorry bye.

(to make up for this being shitty I have an angsty Chris Evans one-shot coming up)

Originally posted by stuckybarnesrogers

(last part)

Exhausted and cuddled up to Seb awhile later I have finally cleared the clouds in my brain enough to speak.

“That was amazing, Seba. Definitely worth the wait” I sit up to kiss him deeply before laying back down and saying, “I love you, with my whole heart”

“I love you” he tells me, kissing the top of my head.


Keep reading

Broken Vows [ft. Wonwoo]

Originally posted by gyuhan-17

“He spoke again as if he hadn’t just shattered his promise and her security. Her house of glass now lay in a pile of shards.” 

― Aleatha Romig, Consequences 


Genre: Few scoops of angst with sprinkles of heartbreak

Word count: 900+


It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Everything was a mess; you, him and your relationship.

If you could still call it one, that is.

And you didn’t know when it all got so wrong, how it all turned out to be like this. Your marriage was once a fairy tale. One you could only find in those crappy movies.

Once.


It’s been months since you left. However, your heart was still throbbing of pain like it all happened yesterday, the way his hands moved around in anger that caused you to back away in fear.

“I- ___- I would never hurt you-”

You wondered what would happen if you had trusted him and stayed. Would you let yourself turn into someone like your mom, letting a man having the upper hand in your marriage?

You probably would. If the pain and the damaged he had caused wasn’t so strong, you probably would.

Probably.


[20:29:28] 20-12-2024 From: Him

Can we please talk?

[20:36:12] 20-12-2024 To: Him

Let’s just get this over with. Please.

[20:37:06] 20-12-2024 From: Him

I will sign the divorce papers once we’ve talk. I promise.

[20:38:59] 20-12-2024 To: Him

Alright.


It only took him five minutes to find you. Which honestly surprised you because you clearly remembered that you did not tell him the specific name of the park you were currently visiting.

“It’s where we first met.” Wonwoo explained rather calmly once the question popped up, as if he had been expecting you to ask. “The time really doesn’t wait for anyone, it’s already been five years since then.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how you first met.

You were so young back then. Wonwoo, being the fool that he was, had accidently bumped into you, causing the newly bought ice cream in your hand to fall onto the ground. The sight of the destroyed ice cream wasn’t a very pretty one, but as much as you had wanted to scold the guy for ruining it, the regret and sadness that was coating every inch of his face stopped you.

“I wish we could go back to that time,” Wonwoo suddenly confessed, taking you off guard.

“Won-”

“I wouldn’t change a thing, I just want to relive that moment.” He said, smiling almost sadly as he looked up into the night, eyes now filled with something unreadable. “I would do it all over again, ____, ‘cause I got to meet you.”

Wonwoo, stop.” You knew where this was heading, he was trying to win you over with his sweet words again.

I couldn’t let him.

Not again.

“Just hear me out.” He said, turning his head so that he was now staring into your eyes. “Please.”

“We can’t keep doing this- No. I can’t.” You looked away, your voice cracked slightly which you quickly tried to cover up with a throaty cough.

You weren’t going to cry.

“I’ve missed you. Terribly.” He ignored your pleading, reaching for your cold hands before pulling you so that the both of you were now standing up. “I- I can’t live without you, ____. I tried to forget you. Your goddamn angelic smile, but I can’t. I can’t. And my heart can’t seem to forget you either as it is beating like crazy inside my chest right now. Yearning for you, for your touch.”

If you said that you didn’t feel anything by hearing those words coming from his lips, then that would definitely be a lie. Your heart had already surrendered. Your legs felt like jelly as you could feel his desperate stare on you.

“Wonwoo-”

I love you.

That promise again.

“No you don’t, Wonwoo.” You finally pulled back, although the action ahd caused a great amount of pain to your heart, you knew distance was what you needed right now.

Your brain jsut couldn’t seem to be able to function normally while being so close to him. It was as if he had a spell on you. A cruel one that always managed to pull you back, into his warm embrace.

But you weren’t going to let it control you now.

“If you truly did,” You bit down your bottom lip, forcing yourself to not shed a tear. “We wouldn’t be here. Being as broken as we are now.”

“____-”

“No. It’s your turn to lsiten, Wonwoo-ssi.” You said, fists clenching. “If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have let me wait for you all these years. You wouldn’t have felt the need to continue hiding me, keeping our relationship as some ugly secret, when your company gave you the choice to stop, you wouldn’t have been ashamed of me and…. a-and you wouldn’t have been cheating on me.

“____- I-”

“You didn’t expect this fool of a wife of yours to find out did you?” You chuckled humorlessly, feeling the sudden anger building up inside of you. “What were you actually thinking, Jeon Wonwoo? Why would I want a divorce, after all these years spent waiting for you without a single complain? Why would I give up?”

“I- I broke my promise.”

I, Jeon Wonwoo, promise to love you and only you, ____ ______, until we both turn old and grey.

“So please stop. Stop all these crap of you missing me, loving me because you don’t.” You breathed out.

You don’t.


[Writer’s Note:]

I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaack guyssss~~~~  It’s finally the time of the year when I can drown myself in hot chocolate and whipped cream without feeling like an overweighted pig *happy dance*

Thank you all so much for the support and patient, I know that I am not one of those fast writers out there but I promise that I will try my best to upload more os for you guys since it’s CHRISTMAS BREAK!!!!

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!

Please send me a message and let me know what you thought of this os of Wonwoo!!

Lots of luv~~~

- Vinye

An artsier-than-expected image that reflects how my brain/my life/sixth form is at the moment.

After getting rejected from Oxford last week I fell into a slump where I couldn’t bring myself to do much more than lie in bed and contemplate my failure feeling utterly dejected (not that I’m dramatic or anything 😇). I got pretty behind on work, not helped by a brief school trip to London on Monday and Tuesday - although coming back from the trip I don’t feel nearly as upset about Oxford; getting my mind off it has definitely helped me get over it! Anyway, with four pretty big tasks due in tomorrow I’ve been working pretty hard this evening, and after this hopefully I can get back on the sixth form train so to speak and organise my life a bit more.

Also, it’s my birthday next week so I’m looking forward to the celebrations!

Hope you’re all doing well ✨

anonymous asked:

I have what's called an IEP in mathematics and the way it was explained to me was that my brain doesn't process math the way other people's do and so I struggle with it so I definitely know how you feel a hundred percent

*hugs* it’s so nice to know i’m not alone hahah <33
i know that a lot of my bad understanding of maths comes from years of having shitty teachers, but i always feel so lost when my current (good) teacher’s explaining things

there are some things i understand, but there are so many concepts i just can’t wrap my head around???? like, yeah, i see why applying that concept would make sense in the situation my teacher presented, but i never know when i should do it in other situations :(

maths are so hard aaaaaargh

and it makes me SO frustrated because in class i kind of get it but when i have to actually do it i just don’t understand and then it makes me sad and guilty, because it’s like i’m not even trying, but i am ;0;

it’s like i have the ability to understand, but there’s a huge mountain in front of me, while for other people it’s just a small hill XD

it really intrigues me that some people just get it, you know?

acuisle  asked:

sterek, you keep taking me back to the dance floor but i really need to pee etc.

When Stiles finally accepts that Derek has up and ditched his ass, he spends a long ten minutes wondering if he’d describe himself as embarrassed-furious or furious-embarrassed. It’s a close call— closer even than the bodies have been packed, sardine-like, into JUNGLE. He’s a lot more aware now that he surrendered his shirt in a seduction Hail Mary, and thanks to glitter body paint his nipples are now the eyes of a smiley face stretching his entire chest.

Derek’s nowhere to be seen— which isn’t surprising since Stiles resigned himself to that fifteen minutes ago— and he shouldn’t be embarrassed at all, dammit, but he is. It’s not like he kept dragging Derek out onto the dance floor time after time (to a pretty wild remix of “Time After Time,” actually). It’s not like he started the whole— flirting— thing they were doing. It’s not like he’s ever in his life considered Derek Hale a romantic possibility!

Well, the consideration had lasted all of one incredibly sweaty hour, throughout most of which Stiles had had a bad case of the pee shivers. But Derek’s hands on his skin had been novel as hell and unbelievably sexy for it, and he’d let himself linger as long as his body would allow before breaking away to pee—

Only to get pressed up against the wall next to the bathroom door and get the ever-loving crap kissed out of him.

By Derek friggin Hale, who up and ditched him as soon as Stiles let him out of his sight for the three minutes it took to take a leak.

The more he thinks about that, the more furious he feels. But he doesn’t necessarily feel less embarrassed for it. He spent so long chasing blindly after Lydia that he thought he’d beaten any romance-related embarrassment out of himself. Clearly that’s not the case.

But embarrassment is a funny thing. He’s not embarrassed that Derek kissed him or even that he kissed back, fisted his hand in Derek’s overgrown hair and tugged. He’s not embarrassed about the public display of it all, and he’s definitely not embarrassed that he got half-hard from it— he has a firm not-my-fault policy when it comes to his erections. No. Nothing he and Derek physically did is embarrassing.

It’s what happened inside Stiles’s stupid brain that’s making him cringe.

In terms of romantic interest in Derek, he’d shot from zero to a hundred and fifty in a single night. Some stupid little feeling of being wanted and maybe being wanted for a long, long time had risen up inside of him, and Stiles hadn’t questioned it at all. It just made sense to him— of course Derek would peel him out of his shirt, haul him onto the dance floor, refuse to let him slip away even to pee, and then kiss him stupid. Of course, his brain had decided, it only makes sense.

And in the relative quiet of the bathroom, he’d built that idea up further— crafted ideas of DerekandStiles, together, a couple. He’s always been a fast-mover with these things, so that’s ordinarily nothing new, but reconciling that fluttery-high-happy feeling that’d taken over with Derek’s sudden and unexplained disappearance had proven impossible. Now he just feels cold and stupid— played and betrayed, as it were.

He breaks out of Jungle’s side exit door, and the warm California air feels cool on his flushed face. He lets the bouncer outside cut his bracelet without a word passed between them, and then he slinks off— shirtless and pissy— to find his Jeep and go the hell home.

The ride home calls for all the angry music he can find, but his radio is busted and stuck as always on the community station that plays nothing but classical music 24/7. So he blasts Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake Waltz and grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

*

Keep reading

A Little Prayer

Pairing: Phan
Genre: Fluff + Comfort, Reality
Word count: 1,310 words
Warnings: illness
Description: Dan hums a little song for a sick Phil

a/n: this ficlet was written by @transdimensional-void for my favorite nikki @pinofs

***************************************************************************************************

Keep reading

I’m definitely ready to get out there in the world. I don’t have a problem with touring, because now we get along. Sometimes those guys feel like we’re not friends, and I’ve definitely gone through phases with Anthony and Flea where they think we’re not friends. But the narrow-mindedness that comes from me needing to occupy my brain all the time sometimes isolates me from the people around me. When we toured for BTW and Cali, I kept my headphones on all the time. I think this time, I’m going to take the headphones off.
—  John Frusciante about touring for Stadium Arcadium (2006)
Normal

“There is no such thing as normal” people tell us to minimize our differences. Some mean well - they are trying to make us feel like we aren’t too different. Some are just clueless and really believe it.

There is such a thing as normal, and I’m not it.

Normal is not the thing you think it is. It isn’t a goal. It isn’t an epitome of human existence. And it isn’t a useful word without context. The one thing that is sort-of correct about the expression “there is no such thing as normal” is that it is not a word that can be applied alone.

No one person is “normal”. We all have idiosyncracies that keep us from being interchangeable cogs.

The value of the word is within a specific thing. Is it normal to speak? Is it normal to hear? Is it normal to see colors? Is it normal to see at all?

Normal people - no - a useless generalization. Without context, the word has become meaningless and makes the assertion that “there is no such thing as normal” true because it removes context.

We have come to associate the word “normal” with “correct”, “right”, “proper” and “good”. It means none of those things. It doesn’t even imply them. It simply means what is the most common feature of the context being discussed. Nothing more.

It is normal to communicate with mouth noise. That does not say that it is the best, the preferred, or the correct way to communicate. It merely says it is the way most people do. I am abnormal - I don’t communicate that way. I am abnormal.

Ah - abnormal. Not normal. In science an abnormal result means a bad result - oops - no it doesn’t. It means a result not consistent with normal ones.

Different, if you will. No judgment applied. Good and bad are not useful words. Normal and abnormal are, since they do not imply value. When a bacteria that lives on everything suddenly dies out on moldy bread it is abnormal - but it is a good thing. It’s how penicillin was discovered. An abnormal result was not evil!

A person with an IQ over 90% of the population is abnormal. Not exactly an evil thing (unless you’re an anti-intellectual from the 1950s). A person with white skin from black parents is abnormal, but not evil (unless you’re a racist). A person with green eyes is abnormal, but not evil (and if you’re a follower of some Celtic religions it’s a blessing).

Normal exists - it is what the majority of people within a group express. That’s it. That’s all it means. No good or bad. Just is the majority. No one person is normal because without the context of the discussion there is no way to know what “normal” is.

Talking? A person who is in all other respects “normal” might not talk. They become abnormal in that context. Doesn’t make them bad.

I won’t list all the ways a person could be “normal” and then be “abnormal” - if you didn’t get it by now you won’t get it with more details.

Yes - there is such a thing as normal and by corollary abnormal. The words do not have value judgements - those come from the bigotry of people that want to feel superior.

At one time it was normal to be a racist - most people were so it fits the definition of normal. It was normal to be anti-semitic - most people of non-Jewish descent were so it fits the definition of normal. Does that make “normal” a thing to be aspired to?

I am abnormal. My long bones are longer relative to body size than is “normal”. My IQ is above “normal”. I do not speak - “normal” people do. My brain does not like fireworks like"normal" people do. I have teeth like a cat’s, not like “normal” people. My “normal” BP is 180/110 compared to “normal” people’s 110/60. I have a LONG list of “not normal”.

I am abnormal. I do not try to deny that normal exists to make myself feel better. 

Normal is not a goal, it’s just a description of what the majority is like in a particular measure. But it is a word with a meaning and denying it is more pandering to PC than it is useful.

anonymous asked:

Okay so tonight I was going into my room and the F'N BIGGEST DANG COCKROACH YOUVE WVER SEEN SPRINTED ACROSS MY ROOM LIKE THE LITTTLE SHIT HE IS AND I WAS SCREAMING AND MY BROTHER WAS PISSED AT ME and now I'm wondering if you can do a little blurb of Harry killing a monster cockroach for his galllll. (PSA: cockroach crisis has been averted but I'm still freaking out that like a family is in my room nesting somewhere)

OH MY GOSH COCKROACHES ARE THE WORST IM SO SORRY I SAW ONE IN MY BATHROOM ONCE AND NOW I CANT PEE NORMALLY THERE ANYMORE (tmi?) anywho, I wrote this in my notes at 3 am but I hope it satisfies! xx

“Babe,” your voice was filled with dread as you looked at the monster you were sincerely hoping wouldn’t move another inch. He was somewhere in the other room looking through his collection of movies because it was his turn to pick one tonight when this, this, THING scuttled out from under your dresser.

“Harry?!” You shouted, the desperation a little clearer in your voice.

A muffled “m'comin’ love” was heard but you could still hear him shuffling through titles and his “comin” wouldn’t be for another five minutes unless you-

“HARRRYYY!!!!!!” your screech bounced off the walls and you heard something immediately drop to the ground and footsteps pound towards you before he burst through the door.

“Wot’s goin’ on?” His voice was riddled with concern and confusion, brows drawn tightly together and he swore he’d never heard such an ungodly noise in his life.

“What is that?” Your shaky finger pointed to the creation unaffected by your screams and you let out another yelp as it moved a little closer.

“God it’s massive innit?” he observed, his voice a mixture of disgust and the smallest trace of awe.

“Get it! Get it before it runs under the bed- quick, Harry!” you urged in hysteria.

He reached for a magazine on the dresser and you quickly snatched it from him, “I just got this in the mail, use something else!” You didn’t mean to sound snappy but IT was right in the open, the stakes were pretty fucking high here.

He let out a huff but a bit of panic struck him when you snatched the trainers he picked up too.

“Wot d'yeh want me t'use? M'hand?”

“I don’t care just- do something!” Your eyes spotted your old rain boots and Harry’s eyes followed your gaze. He looked at you quickly for permission and you only had a small amount of time to nod before it made its next attack. You were running towards the door as the demon spawn zig zagged towards you at a lightning pace.

“HARRY ITS TRYING TO KILL ME OH MY GOD KILL IT PLEASE”

You heard a smack as the boot hit the ground and you thought it was finally over, but Harry let out an unmanly shout and started running towards the opposite side of the room. You laughter was a bit delirious as you watched your boyfriend stumble away with the most serious expression of “I’m fucked.”

“S'bloody fast, fookin’ ‘ell- ah!” He let out a laugh that was actually a squeal and he did a small jump when he desperately threw the shoe down to try and smash it before it could go on and climb his leg. You saw him crouch down and each repeated pound into the ground sent a little flow of relief through you.

“Bugger,” he cursed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.  He stared towards the floor a bit and gingerly left the shoe on the ground as he stood.

“Is it dead?” you asked quietly. Harry walked to you and actually shivered a bit. He nodded, but then another shiver wracked through him and he shook his head in a soundless laugh.

“Fookin’ disgusting, want to clean the floors?”

You cringed.

“Gross. But it’s dead? Are you sure? Because I read that those things can survive nuclear bombs and they can last 3 days with their heads cut off so I just wanna make sure-”

“Course it is, I beat it enough times it betta be,” Harry pulled you into him with a little smile and stroked your hair as he shushed you like a child. “There, there, your big strong manly man s'here. Who’s my little bug?” he cooed.

You snorted and shoved him off a bit, but he tugged you right back til there was no hope of being free from his strong warm chest. Despite being most definitely glad it was dead, his morbid words let a tiny seed of guilt settle, just a bit.

“I feel kind of bad about it now. Is it weird I sometimes think dead bugs will come back to haunt me?”

He let out a nasally laugh and you felt it against your temple. “You’re mad,” he laughed softly into your hair, but before you could answer with something snarky, he added, “but you’re my kind of mad.”

Butterflies erupted in your chest from his sweet softly spoken words, even though a part of your brain was still bringing to mind the image of big guts now on your carpet. “S'this mean you’ll let me pick the movie tonight? You know, since you love me and all.” The hope couldn’t be distilled from your voice and Harry let out a small snort.

“Um…no,” he said, earning a whine and groan from you.

“But harryyyy I almost died today, that thing was on a mission to kill.” Even though he wasn’t looking at you, he could feel your pout against his chest. “You’re my strong man,” you teased, bringing up a hand to rub his chest a bit. “Thank youuuu,” you pressed a kiss about where his pec would be and you felt him sigh in defeat.  He was having trouble finding a movie he liked anyway and when you were being this bloody adorable…he didn’t know if he’d be all too focused on the movie tonight at all.

“K muppet, but you owe me a new DVD, I smashed the new one from your banshee call.”

lesbianpdf  asked:

what exactly does it mean about stimming that it stimulates your brain? im trying to find out more about stimming.

So our bodies detect things in our environment as sensory information - anything that we can see, hear, smell, feel or taste is sensory information. But this information alone is meaningless. It has to be sent to the brain in order to be decoded.

The brain takes this all this information and uses it to identify what something is and how we should respond to it. For example, you see a glass of opaque white liquid in front of you. It has very little smell, but the liquid is cold. It tastes slightly sweet and feels slightly thicker and fattier than water. All this information is sent to your brain, brain interprets the information, and probably spits out a response along the lines of “This is milk. You should/shouldn’t drink it.”

Generally, when someone says that something “stimulates the brain” what they are referring to is pretty much the process I’ve describe above. It’s the brain receiving, decoding, and responding to sensory information. You could say that sensory information stimulates a response from the brain.

Usually, sensory stimulation comes from us interacting with things in our environment that are external to us, like the temperature of a cup of coffee, or being jostled by other people in a crowd.

Stimming, however, is a little bit different. Stimming is an abbreviation for self-stimulatory behaviour, so by definition, it’s something an individual does to themselves, in order to receive a specific sort of sensory feedback. Usually, people stim because doing so elicits a specific, and desired response from the brain. 

This might be because the stim is comforting and makes them feel safe, for example, I’ll often stroke my hair as I’m going to sleep, because this is something my mum did when I was little, and I find it soothing. Alternatively, a stim might be protective, that is, it might help an individual block unwanted sensory information from their environment, by providing a more preferable alternative.

In ADHD, there seems to be a fine line between what constitutes fidgeting and what constitutes stimming, but it’s worth noting that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. A playing with a fidget toy might become a stim, if an individual finds that playing with the fidget is soothing or comforting, in addition to aiding concentration. The same goes for bodily-focused repetitive behaviours (BFRBs) and stimming, although, in this case, the stimming may be a BFRB to begin with.

And that’s about all I know about stimming. Hope it helps your quest for knowledge!

- Prue

i feel like niall is definitely the mom friend who when ur driving somewhere and he comes to a sudden stop he instinctively reaches over the center console to brace u from jerking forward so u don’t fly thru the windshield

anonymous asked:

Imagine if Carmilla had some kind of fear of explosions from being in the coffin during WWI and WWII while bombs exploded above her, so when New Years comes around and people start setting off fireworks she gets really scared and instead of going out and celebrating with everyone else Laura stays in the room with Carmilla and just holds her and comforts her the whole time.

I have definite feelings that there must be some residual trauma from the whole coffin thing.

My headcanon has always been that it’s to do with enclosed spaces and being submerged (hence why it was a big fucking deal in my brain that she went to get the sword), but I dunno why I feel like this would bother her more than the noise.

Whatever it is/may be though, Laura would definitely be awesome about it.

Part 5 - Gail & Holly - Texting saga continues

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

Gail:

Watching Breaking Bad finale on DVR. Do you know how to make methamphetamine?


Lunchbox:

What the hell, Gail?


Gail:

What? We could go into business together! I need funds to support my shoe and ring obsession and you, I dunno, flannel shirts? You can be Mr White and I’ll be Jesse. But don’t get cancer, okay? That would make Jesse sad.


Lunchbox:

Um, why don’t we just go with “books” instead of the whole lesbian cliche. I’ll try my best on the cancer front. At least I have a hot blonde wife.


Gail:

See? You are already looking on the bright side. It’s the perfect plan. And I like your flannel shirts.


Lunchbox:

You realise you will have to do a lot of work don’t you? Those protective suits aren’t very flattering either.


Gail:

Ah, fuck it. Let’s just grow pot instead.


Lunchbox:

Yes, very wise. I am much more comfortable in the area of botany. I took care of my roommates buds in med school while she was on break.


Gail:

Well that’s a start I guess. What are you doing right now?


Lunchbox:

I am in the lab.


Gail:

You hungry?


Lunchbox:

Gail it’s late.


Gail:

I know, I can bring something to you. I can help you do some work.


Lunchbox:

You mean sit around and insult me and tell me how much I smell?


Gail:

That’s what I said. Work.


Lunchbox:

I guess I have some more bones here you can touch.


Gail:

Wicked. So what do you want to eat?


Lunchbox:

Nothing too heavy or greasy and no red meat.


Gail:

Okay. One bowl of horse chaff coming up.


Lunchbox:

Why don’t you get yourself a side of cat food while your at it.


Gail:

Stupid bloody cat. 


Lunchbox:

You shouldn’t put yourself down like that. Emotional issues you may have, but stupid you definitely are not.


Gail:

Thank you, Yoda.


Lunchbox:

Very welcome my young Padawan, you are, yes hmm.


Gail:

I feel sorry for any of your future wives.


Lunchbox:

Wives, plural?


Gail:

Well I figure with your first wife her brain explodes from all the nonsensical shit you fill it with.


Lunchbox:

Technically not possible, but go on.


Gail:

You learn your lesson after your first wife, however, your second wife accidentally stumbles upon your first wife’s dead body that you had buried in the back yard. So naturally you kill her.


Lunchbox:

Great :P Now I’m a murderer.


Gail:

And finally your third wife will unfortunately fall in love with me. Then the inevitable happens.


Lunchbox:

Let me guess, you kill her?


Gail:

How’d you know? Lol


Lunchbox:

I am sensing a pattern here.


Gail:

Oh right, I forgot you are a Jedi.


Gail:

Food ordered. I should be with you and your boney friend in 30.


Lunchbox:

Joy.


Gail:

I can “sense” the sarcasm from here.


Lunchbox:

You are finally learning my young Padawan.